"I have you safe, that is enough; and I would advise you to come to my terms quickly. There is no escape except through me. Your letter has silenced your servant, and his patience is likely to outlast mine. Tell the truth quickly, Monsieur Barrington; it will be safer."
Latour turned to the door, but Barrington sprang toward him and caught him by the arm.
"Are you mad? Think of her; she is in Bruslart's hands."
Latour wrenched himself free, and as he turned sharply there was a pistol in his hand.
"Stand where you are! I would shoot you like a dog rather than let you escape."
"The devil take you for a fool!" exclaimed Barrington. "I thought I had a man to deal with!" and he turned his back upon Latour, who went out of the room, locking the door after him.
Barrington's anger was quickly absorbed in the realization of the utter hopelessness of his position. Latour had trapped him. When he sent him the appointment to come to the Chat Rouge, he must have known what he had told him to-day; he had deliberately said nothing until after Seth's anxiety had been quieted; and his jailer, Jacques Sabatier, was a party to the deceit. Latour had it firmly fixed in his mind that he was in league with Bruslart, and it seemed that nothing short of a miracle would drive this idea out of his mind. Barrington could conceive no way in which he could convince him, and the thought that all this while Jeanne was in peril almost drove him mad. Could he escape? For the first time since he had entered it he examined his stone cellar carefully. It was a very grave for security.
When Sabatier visited him next morning, his manner gave Barrington an idea. Sabatier entered more carefully than he was wont to do, his hand upon a pistol thrust into his tri-color sash. It was evident he feared attack. His greeting was friendly, however; he showed a keen interest in the prisoner, and gave him odds and ends of news which were of little importance.
"Any message for Citizen Latour?" he asked as he was leaving.
"Tell him he is a fool."